


150621

by younglemonade



Series: Day of the Summer 2017 [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, Soulmate AU, bioquake, skimmons - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 06:06:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12599940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/younglemonade/pseuds/younglemonade
Summary: second day of the summer fic prompt: skimmons + first words soulmate au where one has a really generic mark and one has a really unique one/ / /“Fitz?” she echoes, as if she doesn’t know exactly who he is, doesn’t know he shares a lab space with Jemma Simmons, a.k.a. subject of Daisy’s “super-crush” (Hunter’s words, not hers) who she hasn’t managed to talk to once in the three months she’s worked here. And it’s not just that Daisy’s being a coward – she’s totally not, okay? – but she is kinda hanging out for a context where Jemma could maybe say her soul-mark. Not that she’s trying to trick fate, but… well, if anyone was worth pulling a fast one on the universe for, Daisy’s pretty sure it’s Jemma.





	150621

**Author's Note:**

> Note accompanying this chapter has been removed.

On a good day, no one will call IT until at least ten o’clock. Of course, there’s the occasional employee who’s forgotten their password for the sixth time this month and needs her to come reset it first thing (damnit Greg), but usually, Daisy gets a good hour of scrolling mindlessly through memes before work really starts up.

Today, though, the phone is ringing before she’s even sat down. She picks it up, rolling her eyes at the fact that the _technology_ department still has to use landlines. “Okay, Greg, I’ll just be a sec -”

The person on the other end of the line coughs nervously. “This, uh, isn’t Greg? It’s Fitz, from the lab.”

“Fitz?” she echoes, as if she doesn’t know exactly who he is, doesn’t know he shares a lab space with Jemma Simmons, a.k.a. subject of Daisy’s “super-crush” (Hunter’s words, not hers) who she hasn’t managed to talk to once, not in the three months she’s worked here. And it’s not just that Daisy’s being a coward – she’s totally not, okay? – but she is kinda hanging out for a context where Jemma could maybe say her soul-mark. Not that she’s trying to trick fate, but… well, if anyone was worth pulling a fast one on the universe for, Daisy’s pretty sure it’s Jemma.

“Yeah, Leo Fitz. From the fourth floor? Listen, I accidentally spilled something on Jemma’s computer, so if you could come try and salvage it before she gets in and kills me, I’d be eternally grateful,” he gushes. Daisy wonders if he’d be eternally grateful enough to put in a good word for her with Jemma.

“Of course,” she says, basically tripping over herself to agree.

/ / /

Fitz is hovering over her shoulder, his expression flickering between desperate and resigned, already feeling sorry for himself. It’s kind of hard to concentrate with someone leaning over her like that, but she figures he’s just stressed. His hand is resting on the desk next to her, and she can see the words _ignore Connor, he’s an idiot_ , curling around his wrist. She smirks, and can’t help but wonder if Fitz has met his soulmate yet, and their apparently idiotic friend Connor.

“She’s going to be so upset,” he moans. “She was _this close_ to the end of that report.”

Daisy pictures the cute pout she’d seen Jemma do once when she’d realised there was no tea left in the breakroom, that day she’d nearly got up the courage to go over and introduce herself. But then someone was calling her away to find out how to delete their search history (“I’m asking for a friend.”), and the moment had passed.

She twists to offer Fitz an encouraging sort of half-smile. “I might be able to get some of her work off the hard drive, I don’t think you completely fried it,” she tells him, even though that’s probably taking a glass-half-full approach. It doesn’t look great for Jemma’s report. “What did you spill on it, anyway?”

He’s about to answer when the door snicks open, and Jemma walks in, head bent over some textbook she’s buried in like it’s a bestselling thriller novel.

She looks totally adorable in her patterned sweater and maybe if Daisy was less cool her heart would stutter in her chest or something, but as it is, she thinks she manages to contain it to forgetting to breathe a bit.

“Crap,” Fitz mutters. “She had a meeting with Coulson. I thought we’d have more time.”

Jemma hasn’t noticed them yet, but it’s only a matter of time before she looks up and sees two people hunched over her laptop, sans explanation.

Fitz seems to have frozen up in guilt in their hour of need, so naturally Daisy opens with a totally smooth, totally charming line – “Hey, Jemma.” Awesome. Great work, Daisy. She’s basically on the same evolutionary rung as history-deleting, password-forgetting Greg.

“One-five-oh-six-two-one,” Jemma mumbles, still not tearing her gaze away from the papers in her hands.

“What?” Daisy gapes.

Jemma suddenly seems to realise it’s not just her and Fitz in the room, and her gaze snaps up. She smiles at Daisy. It’s amazing. “Sorry,” she offers sheepishly. “It’s a habit.”

“It’s Jemma’s thing,” Fitz explains. “Her mark says _Hey, Jemma._ We generated a random number when we were kids for her to say so she’d actually know when she met her soulmate. Not much good if she says, _hi_ back, right? It’s unique. Pretty smart, huh?”

Jemma grins at him as she unwinds the scarf from her neck, letting it fall onto the bench. “We’re hardly the first people to do it, Fitz.” She turns to Daisy. “I didn’t mean to start off on the wrong foot. It’s just, you never know, I guess. It’s like a reflex now.”

It takes Daisy another few seconds to get it together. “The numbers are _random_?” she hisses. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve spent trying work out what one-five-oh-six-two-one means? _Years._ I thought they might’ve been coordinates of some kind, or a barcode, or -”

Jemma freezes. “Wait, what?”

Daisy holds up her wrist, where the _150621_ is written in a neat black text. “Why’d you pick something random?” she asks.

“The, uh, maths – statistically speaking, um…” Jemma trails off, but her head tilts in a way that makes Daisy suspect the ramble is carrying on unchecked in her head.

Fitz looks between them delightedly. “This is so crazy! Who’d have thought? And Daisy’s been here, like, three months, and you two have never talked before.”

Not by design, Daisy wants to assure him, except she’s still kind of lost in surprise and in Jemma.

There’s a moment where Daisy just stares at her, thinks, _fuck yeah, universe._ A million things to say pop into her head. Would Jemma go for coffee? Or tea? Does she like Jurassic Park? Has she ever been to a baseball game? Can –

“So, while you’re still in a good mood over the whole soulmate-thing,” Fitz says quickly to Jemma, “I’m just going to let you know that I totally ruined your laptop and it may be unsalvageable. I love you. You kids talk. Bye.”

And then he’s hurrying past Jemma and out the door, and Daisy wonders whether he wants to give them time alone or if it’s just his self-preservation instincts kicking in. Not that she can really imagine Jemma ever being scary enough for someone to flee a room, but who knows, maybe research stuff gets intense down here at the lab. She’d probably shoot Mack if he messed with her software, so maybe Fitz isn’t too far off.

Jemma chews her lip. “Sorry, I know we should, um, get to know each other but – is it really unsalvageable?”

Daisy laughs. “Maybe not? We’ll see.”

The grin she receives sets off a yellow grenade in her chest that tastes like happiness, and Jemma comes over to stand where Fitz had, watching Daisy’s screen as she works. Somehow, Jemma beside her like that isn’t annoying at all, doesn’t make her feel rushed or self-conscious or irritated, maybe because she’s warm and smells like summer and so far this soulmate thing is shaping up to be better than all the rumours.

Daisy’s tempted to retrieve the files a bit slower, just so she gets to talk to Jemma a little longer, but the supernova smile she gets when she digs up all Jemma’s documents, safe and sound, is awesome too.

/ / /

Years later, when their son is born on the fifteenth of June, 2021, Daisy sticks her tongue out at Jemma.

“Not as random as you thought, babe,” she hums. “I knew those numbers stood for something.”


End file.
